Hey guys! Just a little update here… So yeah, I've not written this in ages, but I've got a grand plan for Edmund and each of his ancestors. It's been a little touch and go writing the stories of his ancestors, and I may not write about all of them, so here are his known ancestors so far:

Cenno - 200BC (Ancient Rome)

Earl Robin – 12th / 13th Century England (Holy Crusades)

Keshin Washi – 14th Century Japan (Fuedal Japan)

Dante Cosimo – 15th Century Rome / Milan / Florence (Italian Renaissance)

Patrick Tallon – 18th Century West Indies (Golden Age of Piracy)

Fillian De Sauveterre – 18th Century Paris (French Revolution)

Nathaniel O'Connell – 19th Century (Post-American Revolution)

Dorian Adler – 19th Century London (Victorian Era, The Industrial Revolution)

Laicey St. Corbin – 20th Century Paris (World War II, The Nazi Occupation of France)

Funnily enough, only three of these characters are categorised as Templars… Edmund has a lot of Assassins in the family tree…

I awoke with a gasp, inhaling air in desperate attempts to fill my lungs. It was as if I had been under water with an empty chest. Hands placed themselves on my shoulders as I flailed my arms; trying to knock them away and sit up. The white flourescents blinded me, which only made the panic constrict in my throat tighter. I grabbed one wrist that was pinning my shoulder down, and twisted it. Heard them cry out and slam onto the ground.

More hands grabbed me, and I tried to inhale once more, only I couldn't seem to open my throat. I was suffocating – no one was letting me breathe. A silhouette leant in, blocking the light.

"Edmund, you need to calm down." I continued to try and wrest my body away. "Edmund, the more you struggle, the worse it'll get," a new pair of hands held the sides of my face, firmly gripping my temples, "Edmund, just listen to me- listen to my voice." I began to recognize the voice – it was soft and gentle, but her tone had a sense of authority and strength. "Edmund, everything's okay. Just… slow your breathing."

I did as the voice instructed, and stopped trying to gasp for air. This time, I allowed my body to go limp and simply sucked in the air, allowing it to swell up in my lungs. I immediately relaxed at the final presence of air inside me.

My vision slowly returned as the hands released me. The blackness and the blurs began to retreat as I finally looked up to see Lucy there, still holding the sides of my head. However, it still ached and throbbed, like I had bitten into a flashbang.

"Can I have some aspirin?"

Lucy let out a smile, then nodded to the men, who all began to exit the glass cubicle. I saw one of them, Corbin, hold his wrist close to his chest and walk away – going towards the medical bay. Lucy provided me with two tablets and an Abstergo glass full of water.

"Have you had the hallucinations yet?"
"Hallucinations?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Prolonged exposure to the Animus triggers an overlap of memories between you and your ancestors-"

"So I wouldn't need the Animus to visit them?" I took the tablets, and drank the water, washing away that awful, clinical taste. "Well, that's not so bad. It's quite convenient actually – I wouldn't miss the Animus…" I looked over the white block with distaste.

"The Animus allows us to control the memories: We can manage and maintain the crossover between you and your ancestors – lets us keep you sane."

I smiled at her, handing her the glass back. "Aw. So you do care?" I asked, mock-swooning back onto the Animus.

"Smartass," she took the glass, "what happened?"
"To what?"
"To you."
"When?"
"Edmund…"

I rolled my eyes, sitting up again, "You were watching."

"I was overseeing the trainees," she sat down beside me, "you've got nothing to be ashamed about; It happens to everyone sooner or later. They come across a time that their ancestor was under a great deal of emotional stress, or… or there's some physical trauma-"

"I swear, this never happens," I said with a wink.

"Ed…"
"Lucy, it was nothing," I looked her in the eye, no longer joking, "Honestly."

"That- that – wasn't nothing, Edmund. That wasn't just a panic attack- you broke Corbin's wrist!"

I sighed, rubbing my head once again. "I don't know what it was… I'm still making sense of it all…"

"Let's start with the basics: Which ancestor were you researching?"

"That's the thing: I was set up to relive Fillian De Sauveterre, back in the French revolution, and…"

"And?"

"And… I was somewhere else."

"Maybe a later time in Fillian's life?"

"No, no, it wasn't him. It didn't feel like him. It was hot… it was loud. I could hear crowds and… and screams… There was sand."

"Sand?"

"It was… it was different. I was different."

"A different ancestor, perhaps?"

"But I was meant to see Fillian?"

"It's not unheard of… the Animus isn't perfect," Lucy took out a torch, shining it in my eyes, "it's hard to get the right sequencing – we've been trying to correct those hiccups."

"So, that's what this is? A 'hiccup'?"

"Thankfully that's all this is…"

"Well, can I still go out tonight, Miss? I've got a date, you see…" I gave her a grin.

"A date? Really?" She raised an eyebrow. I immediately dropped my grin. It was a date. Wasn't it?

"M-maybe," I tried to plaster on my smirk again and act suave, but Lucy just shook her head and chuckled.

"Well, I wouldn't advise any drugs – medical or otherwise. Some physical exercise would be good – just no contact sports."

"What sort of exercise?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow. I didn't want to say exactly what was on my mind, but, with the reddening of her cheeks, I could see that we were on the same page. "Sorry," I looked away from her, "that was inappropriate."

She let out a small chuckle, "Yes, it was."

I rubbed my eyes again. I could feel the bags, all heavy and grotesque to touch. I hadn't slept much since I started my Animus sessions. And I didn't particularly fancy looking like a mess when I saw Lucy later. "So," I hopped off the medical bed as Lucy began to tap at her tablet, "do you actually have a doctor or nurses or something here? I've not seen anyone…"

"We didn't build a medical wing just for people like me to have a go."

"Hey, do they have to be sworn to silence or something? Like," I let out a chuckle at the thought, "do you give them NDA's to sign? Or is the Doctor-Patient confidentiality thing close enough?"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Go and rest, Ed."

I tapped my head with two fingers, giving a half-hearted salute. "See you at eight-ish?"

Lucy looked back down at her tablet, her lip curling, "we'll see how rested you are."

I couldn't remember the last time I had been on a date. That is, if this was a date. Would a suit be too much? Maybe if I didn't wear the tie… maybe lose the jacket too. But it was getting colder… and what if she got cold? Wait, what was she wearing?

Christ, it was like I was a teenager again.

I decided to wear a short-sleeved shirt and pair of navy chinos, as well as a dark overcoat. I slicked back my hair and fastened my watch. Brown boots, brown belt, my Templar ring… I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked presentable. Not to mention that I'd shaved. God… when was the last time I looked like this?

I came out of my flat in the barracks, tapping my card against the pad. I made my way to the elevator and began to make my way down to the lobby.

I waited in one of the armchairs for fifteen minutes until Lucy arrived. She was wearing a plaid skirt and a dark blouse, her face had… the make-up was incredible. I mean… I knew Templars favoured deception, but how women were capable of doing this… it was staggering.

But, this was not the reason I was blown away. For the first time, seeing her outside of work. She looked… she was the girl that I daydreamed about. The girl I imagined introducing to my mother, if she was still alive. And then, upon stumbling upon that thought, I immediately began to feel sad. Lucy would never meet my parents.

"You look rested," Lucy smiled at me.

I plastered on a smile, "Rested enough for tonight?"

"I suppose so." Lucy nodded. I stood up, and we had an awkward hug. Awkard, because I instinctively went to kiss her, and then realised how strange that could be and tried to kiss her on the cheek, and my arm sat uncomfortably over her shoulder. Mentally cursing and kicking myself, I pulled away from her.

"So, I was thinking we could get some food?"

"Sounds good," Lucy nodded, and we began left the building, making our way through the winding streets covered in night and blinking city lights. It seemed vaguely familiar – I looked at the rooftops, remembering the training sessions, where I would dive off those sun-baked orange tiles.

We finally arrived at a building near the Duomo, in Repubblica Square. On the balcony was a large lavish bar. The sort of place they wouldn't let anyone with trainers in. I walked towards the maitre d'.

"Marlowe," I smiled. The maitre d' ran his hand down the list of names on the podium before smiling.

"Signore e signora," the maitre d' held out his arm and began to lead us to a small table by the stone balcony, overlooking the courtyard. The chairs were pulled out for us, and we sat down, being given a menu each.

"I see you're taking to the lifestyle well…" Lucy smiled. I gave her a brief smile before taking the wine list from the maitre d'. I looked to Lucy for an opinion but she just chuckled, holding up her hands, "Please, I don't know too much about wine."

I licked my lips. Truth be told, neither did I. I turned to the maitre d'. "Perhaps we can have a moment?" The maitre d' bowed his head and left. "So," I turned to Lucy, "was your transition as smooth as mine?"

"No, not really," she paused, her eyes drifting elsewhere, "not at all, actually."

The maitre d' returned, and I deferred to his recommendation for white meat; Lucy ordered chicken and I ordered duck. "You know," I tried to change the subject, "the cathedral took over a hundred years to build."

"A hundred years?" Lucy turned to look around at the Duomo, and turned back to me, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why do I feel like you're holding something back…"

"They finished construction, but never finished the dome," I explained, "so it could never be consecrated. And then, when Florence's trades halted, Cosimo de Medici ordered construction on the duomo," I looked over to it, smiling. "The man created hundreds of jobs out of nothing."

"It sounds like you admire him."

"Why wouldn't you? From what we know, he was quite modest about it."

"Saved a city and didn't even pick up a sword," Lucy smiled.

"Speaking of," I turned back to her, "how is seventeen? Derrick, right?"

"Desmond," Lucy corrected me.

"Dear old Desmond…" I nodded, "he must be pretty important to get you and Vidic to himself all day."

"As important as any one man can be, yes."

"Really?" I scoffed, "He's a bartender."

"And an Assassin."

"If you say so…" Our food arrived, and so we quietened down until the waiter left.

"You don't like him very much, do you?"

"The waiter?"

"Desmond."

"He's one of them. It's in my nature to dislike him."

"As I remember, several of your ancestors were one of them. Besides," Lucy looked down at her food, "it doesn't mean they're bad. Just… wrong."

"They still killed my family," I replied, "no matter their reasons." I shook off the thought, trying to recover a light-hearted persona. "So, he must be likeable to get all that attention."

"I suppose so…" Lucy nodded, "you mean from Warren?"

"Not exactly…" I grinned at her. She began to hold back her smile, though her eyes glinted as she picked up her glass of wine.

"Speaking of Warren…" she leant back in her chair, "how's your training going?"

"You'd know better than me; I'm stuck in training sessions every day. I'm craving actual assignments."

"At least the training isn't as dangerous."

"Or as rewarding." I sipped my wine, "How am I supposed to prove myself if I'm not given the chance?"

"So, what are you after then?" Lucy set her wine down, "Money? Power?"

"Isn't that what being a Templar is about?"

"That's a yes, then."

"It's about helping people. Protecting them. There will always be someone in charge – someone in control. If it's us, we'll be in control for the right reasons."

"Well, why don't you ask Warren, then? He definitely seems to have taken a shine to you."

"I don't know, he seems a touch… temperamental."

"Oh, I know…" Lucy chuckled.

"He just… Look, he's a brilliant man. And I'd never say anything against him…"

"But?"

"…but I feel like he's holding me back. He's not letting me be all that I can be."

"That must hurt." Lucy frowned, cocking her head to the side.

"Sorry," I tried to push the thoughts from my mind, "I didn't want to talk about work."

"It's okay, Ed. If something's upsetting you, you should tell me." It was only then that I became aware of something – her hand on top of mine. I hadn't even noticed it in all my ranting about Vidic. I looked up at her.

"Is this also a part of your role as supervisor?"

Lucy let out a laugh, but her hand remained on top of mine.